The Deuce
by xMad.Hatterx007
Summary: Takamachi Nanoha, Yagami Hayate and Fate T. Harlaown may be Aces, but Fate Testarossa would always be the Deuce. Hints of Nanofate, Dark.


A/N: Warning: this is the product of MSLN, Madoka Magica, the Hunger Games, and the fact that I am a horrible person. Rated T for language and themes.

Disclaimer: I do not own the MSLN series or any of the characters therein.

The Deuce

Fate walked at a brisk pace. She rounded the corner. Other members of the Administration Bureau, veteran and rookie alike, stepped out of her way. It didn't matter that most of them were twice her age. She was Fate T. Harlaown, the adopted daughter of Admiral Lindy. She was the pseudo-daughter of Precia Testarossa. She was an absurdly powerful Artificial Mage. She was a rabid Mid-Childen Wolf, kept on a tight leash. Few who crossed her walked away under their own power. She was dangerous and everyone knew it.

She entered an empty Port—a highly advanced elevator, as expected in the Bureau's main office—and lightly tapped the six on the screen three times. It beeped. Fate expertly typed in a complex code. Another beep. She pressed her index finger onto the two on the screen and watched the green light verify her fingerprint, then at the sound of the next beep, leaned forward for a retinal scan. A bright light shone in her eye, but she didn't blink.

The Port dropped. If she had failed any of those tests, it would have taken her to the sixth floor. A few of the younger recruits would hit 666 just for fun, sometimes, especially the mischievous ones who'd spent time on Unadministered Planet 97. Fate didn't really know why, but she also didn't care enough to actually look into it. There was too much work to be done, and any research of that nature might be misconstrued as treason. She was many things, but openly suicidal was not one of them.

The doors opened and Fate stepped into the corridor, immediately moving the right side. Always walk on the right; it was an ironclad rule. Breaking it meant death, no questions asked, on that basis of potentially being a spy.

She heard the steady sound of several people walking. Soon the Wolkenritter, led by Signum, appeared. Zafira was in his wolf form; he was not allowed to walk as a man here. Fate walked by them without so much as blinking, nor did they so much as glance her way. This, too, was standard. No one was allowed to acknowledge anyone in the Hall of Ghosts because, like ghosts, they could not be seen. Supposedly. Personally, Fate thought it was the Bureau's way of saying they were as good as dead.

That is what it meant to be a Card.

Reaching the end of the Hall of Ghosts, Fate typed in another complex code and was granted entrance to small room. Inside was a table with a deck of cards, a tool for popular games on Earth. Fate had never played any such games, first because she was always training and later because she herself became a Card and lost all interest in anything to do with them.

She did suspect that Gil Graham started the Card system. It just seemed like the sort of thing he would do. He certainly didn't have any qualms with trapping Hayate between dimensions.

She opened the pack, rifled through them and pulled out the Ace of Spades. This was her calling card. It was also a misnomer.

She was the Deuce.

There were twelve Cards, Deuce to King, each with a specific function, unknown to the other Cards. There was no Ace. The title of Ace was reserved for the public face, for the rising stars, for the blindly loyal. There could, theoretically, be an infinite number of Aces. She might be an Ace to the public when she was fighting alongside Hayate or Nanoha, but here she was the Deuce.

Tucking the cards back into the box, Fate continued to the next door. She tapped the number two and waited. There was a long beep, but she didn't move. There was another beep, but she remained still. There was a third beep, and Fate flashed the Ace of Spades in front of the screen once, twice, and lowered the card to her side. There was final beep, and the door opened to reveal a vast chamber.

Fate felt her pulse quicken. Technically, she was past the dangerous part. Failure to follow any of the protocols in the Hall of Ghosts or to enter a wrong code or to use the wrong card in the Deck Room, and she would have been killed instantaneously. Having gained access to the main chamber, she was safe. It also meant she would receive her next assignment.

She entered, her heels clacking loudly. Or perhaps she only thought it was loud. Still, there was an echo. It bothered her. It reminded her far too much of life in the Garden of Time. She stopped in the center of the room and held up the card before her. She stared straight ahead; she was not allowed to look up at the three Councilmen, but she already knew who they were.

"Deuce, reporting for assignment."

It was the only thing she was allowed to say.

"There is a new ruler of Administered Planet 47 in the eastern quadrant. The entire family needs to be dealt with, post haste. You leave when you lover falls asleep and have until your lover wakes up to complete the mission. Dismissed."

Lover. Ha. As if Nanoha would have someone as broken as Fate for her lover. What a painfully ridiculous notion. But Fate gave no indication of her thoughts, merely bowed her acquiescence, turned sharply and left, her heels clacking louder than before. She passed through the Deck Room, tucking the card safely away in her pocket and returned to the Hall of Ghosts. She walked on the right side, eyes ahead of her. She did not even flinch when Erio walked by her.

She wondered what function he served. She hoped he was one of the Numbered Cards. Theirs was a (slightly) kinder fate, which meant he was likely doing research (of the volatile and morally ambiguous variety) or spying. Neither option was safe, but they were certainly less dangerous than being the Deuce or a Court Card. She did not know what it meant to be a Court Card, but such a high Card must carry a burden. Still, better a Court Card than the Deuce.

The Deuce, after all, was the lone assassin in the Bureau.

She entered the Port and hit a random number. She didn't care where she went. She was tired, so tired. She would have Bardiche look up the coordinates she needed. She desperately hoped there were no children. She hated killing young ones. It was worse now, with Caro and Erio. Erio. It was not a coincidence that Fate had seen the Wolkenritter and Erio in the Hall of Ghosts. It was a way to torment all Cards, to know that they were not alone and at the same time, had no one who would understand them since communication between Cards about their assignments was strictly forbidden.

The doors opened. "Fate-chan!"

Nanoha. Of course it would be Nanoha.

"Ah, Nanoha. I was just coming to see you," she lied.

"You're always so sweet, Fate-chan!" She said happily, entering the Port and pushing… something. Fate wasn't paying attention. "What did you need?"

"Nothing," she replied easily. "I just wanted to see you. We've both been working so much lately."

"I'm free tonight!" Nanoha said cheerily. "Vivio is still here, but she will be in the dorms tonight, and I think I saw Erio and Caro earlier. We can have a family night," she offered.

Fate did not want to have a family night, not when she was going to leave in a few hours to slaughter another family. She didn't want to do anything, did not deserve anything. The gods, if they existed, hated her as surely as her mother had. This was terrible. She smiled warmly at Nanoha. "That sounds wonderful."

They exited the Port in the main lobby. Hayate was there, talking with the Wolkenritter. She was rather upset.

"I just don't know why you have to take those missions. They are so dangerous! Anyone else would die—you have died! Do you have any idea how much it terrifies me when you come back half-dead and—"

"Eh? What's going on?" Nanoha asked, approaching their friends.

Hayate whirled around. "They've gone and volunteered themselves for another unnecessary mission where one of them will wind up dead!"

"Our experience offers us a higher chance of success, Mistress," Shamal placated. "The same cannot be said of other agents."

Hayate huffed, cheeks red. Shamal had a point, but that didn't mean she was happy—nor did it mean she was going to give up.

"And what are you up to?" Signum asked.

Nanoha smiled. "Nothing, really, not now. We were just planning out a little family time."

Signum's lips twitched. "Family time," she repeated. "I was hoping for a friendly sparring match before I had to leave for my mission."

Nanoha pouted and took Fate's arm. "You steal Fate-chan away from me often enough as it is," she replied, "and she's always half-dead when you give her back to me."

"Not that Signum fairs much better," Hayate added, glowering up at the smirking warrior. "It's never just a friendly sparring match with you two."

"It's no fun unless someone gets hurt," Vita replied for them, waving her hand dismissively.

Hayate grabbed Vita's nose. "What have I told you about being a bad little girl?"

Signum chortled merrily. "Another time, Testarossa. I leave for my mission soon enough, so it would be unwise to spar now. Perhaps when I return?"

"If you return," Hayate growled.

"I look forward to it," Fate replied with a cocky grin. And she was looking forward to it. Sparring was always good for stress relief. Maybe Signum would accidentally kill her on purpose. That would be a fine thing. Then she would be free with her contract intact.

Nanoha huffed indignantly. "No more fighting until I get some family time!"

"Family time? That sounds great, but only if I'm invited."

Fate turned and smiled. "Erio," she said warmly. She reached out and affectionately ruffled his hair. "Of course you're invited. You and Caro both are more than welcome to spend the evening with us."

"Yes!" Nanoha clapped. "I would really like for all of us to get together this evening, since Vivio has to leave for the dorms later."

"Caro rented a few movies for us to watch," Erio offered genially. There was no sign that he had just walked the Hall of Ghosts. "We can bring those by in about an hour."

Nanoha frowned. "They aren't very violent are they?" Erio shook his head. "Okay then." She scowled when Hayate began to laugh uproariously. "Vivio doesn't like movies like that," she said with a pout.

Fate patted her comfortingly on the back. "I know, I know, don't worry about it Nanoha, Vivio will appreciate it, and I appreciate that you're looking after our little girl."

Nanoha smiled up at her. "Thank you, Fate-chan. You're so sweet."

-TD-

The movies, as promised, were not violent. One of them was a romantic comedy, and Nanoha fell asleep half an hour in. The second movie was a romance. Vivio fell asleep halfway through and had to be woken up so that she could make it back to her dorm before she got in trouble. Nanoha had woken up long enough to see her daughter off, before falling back asleep on the sofa. After seeing Erio and Caro off, she carried Nanoha to bed.

She smiled softly at her longtime companion snored softly. Nanoha would never admit to snoring, but Fate knew and found it endearing. But then, Fate found all of Nanoha's quirks endearing. She stripped off Nanoha's shoes and socks, her outer jacket and her tie before undoing the top few buttons of her shirt to make her more comfortable. Then, slowly, slowly, she took out the hairband from her hair and set on the bedside table. She paused and gently brushed the hair away from Nanoha's face and watched her for a few moments.

Her stolen moments were short lived; there was too much work to be done.

Bardiche had obligingly done the research she needed while she had spent time with Nanoha, Vivio, Erio, and Caro. That made everything much easier for her. He even provided the exact coordinates she would need for a dimensional transfer spell. Falling into her pattern, Fate easily stole away into the night and made off for her normal transfer point. Within moments, her spell took her to the planet where she would begin her assignment.

She assumed her Barrier Jacket, Lightning Form. Impulse Form was reserved for legal assignments, for Enforcer Harlaown, the Ace of the Navy. There could be no white cape for a gallant knight here, not on this assignment, not for Fate Testarossa, the Deuce. Bardiche pulsed mournfully in her hand. He did not care for her work, either. He never spoke during these assignments; Fate supposed it might be his way of expressing her grief.

It was for Nanoha, she reminded him with a thought.

She took in her surroundings; she was in the country, several miles from the city. It was early morning on this planet. The sun was only just beginning to rise. She would have to be quick, but that would work in her favor. People cannot identify what they cannot see. It was a simple matter to slip into the fortress. Fate would have preferred a window—less chance of being spotted—but the royals here were smart. They were kept in an inner compartment for safety. It would not stop her. Her speed made her nigh impossible to catch in any form of security recording, and Bardiche sent out a signal to disrupt the security systems as backup.

Speed was the only magic she could use here. Magic could be traced, and she could not incriminate the Bureau or her contract would be void. If her contract was void, they could get Nanoha.

That was her sacrifice: Cards are permitted one thing in exchange for their contract. She had been so young when she contracted, only nine. Her trial was still ongoing and she'd been so afraid that she would never see Nanoha again. Then three men came to speak with her while Lindy and Chrono were away and Arf was sleeping. They made an offer. If she agreed to undergo special training and become their assassin, they would do two things; make sure she was found innocent, and she could make one request of them and they would see it done.

Out of a combination of desperation, naiveté and fear, she agreed. They'd benevolently allowed her to wait until her training was complete to name her demand. She was found not guilty, but was put in a community service program, ostensibly so that they could curb her criminal tendencies. When her training was done and she was aware of what she had really singed on for, she named her price: neither Nanoha nor anyone with her family name could be contracted as a Card. They signed the contract with an air of solemnity then laughed in her face. They would never contract Nanoha; she was too valuable as an Ace.

Fate did not care. It was enough to prevent even the chance that Nanoha would be contracted. Even better, Vivio was safe. When Fate had specified anyone with her family name, she had been thinking of Nanoha's parents and siblings. She had not even considered Nanoha's children. Generations of Takamachis would be spared. It made her seem more brilliant than she actually was. But it was enough, she told herself, it was worth it. Yes, she would damn her soul for her friend.

Fate slipped silently down the hallway, listening for any sound. With no magic, she had to be on guard. Not even Bardiche could help her, outside of the disruptive signal he sent out.

Then she saw him, the Shadow of her mind. He was a male version of herself, with wine red eyes and long blond hair. She'd seen him all of her life. She first glimpsed him in the Garden of Time, shortly before Linith left. He'd stood there in the middle of the room, unseen by her mother and casting no shadow, invisible to everyone but her. Not even Arf knew who she was talking about, nor did the wolf ever detect a foreign scent.

He'd observed every one of her punishments at her mother's hands. He followed her on her missions, too, both for her mother and for the Bureau, always watching, always sad. She had chased him down the first few times she'd seen him when she was working, but he'd always vanish as she approached. When she had access, she ran him through every identification program in the Bureau. Nothing. He was not real, only a figment of her imagination.

Fate called him her Witness. Perhaps he was there to bear witness to her life. He was there now, watching her as she readied herself to kill a family with political ideals opposing the Bureau's. He was there to bear witness to her crimes, and reflect back at her the grief she felt but could not express. Even now, in that brief moment he was visible, his face was sorrowful.

She nodded her acknowledgement and turned away.

It was a small matter to find the royal compartments. Guards patrolled the hallways—Fate had been forced to duck into a few shadowy corners on her way—but there were no guards outside of the royal compartments; there were any number of reasons for this, and Fate had no desire to know any of them.

There were four marks. The king, his brother, his wife, and his son. The latter would be the hardest. It was always more difficult to do children.

She slipped into the king's office first, on the off chance that he was there. Luck was on her side; the new king was already at work. He sat at his desk composing something, probably a letter or a speech. He did not hear her enter, did not notice her approach. Regardless, she was the last thing he saw before she took his life. It was quick, the only mercy she could offer. It was fortunate for her that his brother walked in just as she was beginning to plan a route to go in search of her remaining targets. She made quick work of him as well.

Leaving the office, she zipped down the hallway. She slipped into a room that, if her memory served–and it always did–was the Royal apartment. The Queen, still in her sleeping gown, was sitting at a small table, sipping tea or perhaps coffee along with her breakfast. She, too, was dealt with quickly. Fate drew in a quivering breath; she knew what was next. Only one target remained on her list.

Clutching Bardiche, she opened one of the many doors; it was a closet. Her heart began to pound. She opened the next door. It was the bedroom. She opened the third door and found the nursery. She stepped in silently, having had years of practice. Fate approached the cradle and looked down at her quarry.

He was a toddler, no more than two. His hair was dark, small wisps sticking up from a restless slumber. He was fair skinned, with rosy cheeks that stood out all the more because of the pale blue of his sleep shirt. He kicked his blanket off at some point in the night, but it was still tangled around his legs.

"Oh little one," Fate sighed. She opened her mouth to speak further, that no words would come. But really, what was there for her to say to a child she was about to kill? "I will make this as quick as I can," she whispered. She gripped Bardiche's shaft. She drew in a deep breath, and prepared herself. She positions the ax head just so, drew back, and froze.

The little boy's eyes flickered open, and they were a beautiful shade of slate blue. Horror welled up inside of her. The little boy stared at her and breathed, his chest rising and falling, rising and falling. He did not speak, but he did not look away. Fate nearly closed her eyes, but decided that she would not degrade his death by turning away her gaze. Staring deep into his eyes she raised Bardiche again and with one final slash, she ended his life.

Fate drew in a single calming breath, but knew she could not wait much longer. With the family dead, her task was nearly done. She walked back out into the main room and approached the desk on the other side of the room. Taking the card she had removed from the Deck Room earlier, she looked around the desk and sure enough, there was a knife. It was an antique, kept as a centerpiece or something to talk about if an uncomfortable silence fell. She took the knife, held the card up to the wall, and plunged the knife through the spade, pinning the card to the wall. There was a yellow flash; she was done.

Fate rolled her shoulders and prepared to leave, taking one final glance back at the ace on the wall. It was her calling card, she supposed. Or rather, it was the Deuce's calling card; it had been used before her, by her predecessor. For that reason, it was thought that the killer dubbed Espalda by the public was either a guild of assassins or immortal. In Fate's opinion, the reality of it was far worse. The Bureau was to be a guiding light, not a harbinger of despotism.

But that was the way of governments, wasn't it? They were always like that, always leading the people to a brighter and greater future than they had ever known. Any of their amoral machinations, their power plays, their experiments, their assassinations, were quickly hidden away and bathed in shadows. They were forced to walk the Hall of Ghosts, forced to take on the identity of a Card.

She slipped out and sped away, thankfully unnoticed by all. It would have been a trial to track down and kill anyone who stumbled upon her; no witnesses could be left alive, after all.

Fate went to one of her mother's properties. Her mother had been mad, but she knew a thing or two about hiding, and there were several dimensional pockets that the Bureau knew nothing about. It would be so easy to just vanish…but that would violate her contract, and Fate had no doubts that Nanoha would contract in exchange for Fate's immunity.

Bardiche began to purge himself, getting rid of any blood on his blade or shaft. Knowing she had only a few minutes, Fate wasted no time in finding a corner and retching. She was always sick after assignments with kids. Always. And she always came to this void to allow herself the luxury of actually being sick. She couldn't do it at home where it might wake Nanoha and invite unwanted questions, nor could she do it anywhere on the planet where her assignment took place.

She began to heave again, though there was nothing more in her stomach, when the man knelt beside her. Trembling, she looked up at her Witness. A tear slipped down his cheek, and Fate nearly thanked him for shedding the tear she could not.

"I have to protect her," she whispered shakily. The words caught in her throat, but she plowed on. She needed to say it, needed to explain it to someone, anyone. "She saved me, and I have to protect her now. This is the only way I can keep her and her family safe. This is all I can do, it's the only way."

"Is it?" They were the only words he had ever spoken, soft and damning.

Fate looked away, unable to speak. Instead she staggered to her feet and began the transport spell that would take her back to Mid-Childa, where she quietly made her way back to base and into her apartment and slipped silently into bed.

She had twenty solid minutes to ponder her crimes and the little boy she had murdered before Nanoha's alarm went off. The rise and fall of his little chest, the slight whistle when he breathed, the way his hair fell over his closed eyes. The horrible slate blue color of his eyes when they opened before she slashed his throat. His blood.

The bile rose in her throat. She swallowed. Nanoha's alarm sounded, the obnoxious beeping merciful in its timing. She smiled a little when Nanoha groaned and reached blindly for the clock, smacking the nightstand once, twice, and finally hitting the clock itself, knocking it on the floor.

Nanoha sat up and stretched languidly. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, then smiled and looked over at Fate. "Morning," she said, voice rough. She turned on the lamp since it was dark and looked down at herself; she was still half-dressed. "Thank you for taking such good care of me, Fate-chan. How did you sleep?"

Fate smiled softly and lied. "Best night's sleep yet. Work must have worn me out yesterday, because I passed out."

Nanoha chuckled. "Yeah, me too. The kids in my class have been pushing their luck." She grinned wickedly. "I might have to show them their limits."

"Ouch," Fate said on their behalf, but she was grinning too. "I might have to stop by one of your upcoming lessons and watch the show."

"Or maybe I'll have them watch one of your matches with Signum," she replied, rolling her eyes. "That should put the fear of whatever deity they follow into them."

"We're not that bad," she defended, slipping out of bed. It was a blatant lie and both of them knew it. It had long ago evolved into a contest to see how much damage they could take without dying. Their sparring matches were legendary.

Nanoha snorted, but didn't reply. They dressed in companionable silence, then went to their shared office to do paperwork. It was tedious but not terrible since neither was alone. Fate knew she did not deserve the company she kept but her selfishness stopped her from leaving.

"Hey Fate-chan, how about we take a break and go for breakfast in the mess hall? It's a little lonely around here with Vivio in the dorms."

Fate looked up. She would rather stay buried in her paperwork where she would not have to look anyone in the eye. "That's a great idea," she said. "Perhaps we will see Hayate."

They did not find Hayate when they walked in, but they did find Signum. "Good morning," Fate said with a warm smile. "We were just about to sit. Would you care to join us?"

"Indeed," she said. "I see I will have fine company for breakfast today. How fortunate."

Fate chatted with Nanoha and Signum over breakfast, laughing at the silly things Nanoha would say and trading playful barbs with Signum. It was pleasant, even with the hushed whispered going around.

"Have you heard?" Rein asked, flying up to them.

"Heard what?" Nanoha asked.

"The entire Sarashian royal family was killed a few hours ago, even the two year old Heir," she informed them grimly. "They are saying it was Espalda again."

Fate was appropriately appalled. She muttered dark curses under her breath, all aimed at the killer called Espalda. She huffed and stated, quite firmly, that something needed to be done about him.

"I just want to know why he's doing this," Nanoha said mournfully. "There has to be a reason, don't you think?"

"Espalda killed a child," Fate informed her grimly. "What kind of a person does that? Only a monster could do that and feel no remorse. Some people just don't have a soul." _Like her_, went unsaid. One had to be soulless to be the Deuce.

For the briefest moment, there was the look of sorrow in Signum's eyes. The look was gone as soon as it had appeared and the other woman agreed wholeheartedly. It would not surprise Fate if Signum knew her role. She'd already guessed the Wolkenritter's: suicide missions, or what would be for anyone of lesser skill.

The argument continued, with Nanoha and Rein wanting to understand Espalda, be it man or guild, and their reasoning. Signum, in a show of Card solidarity, sided with Fate, stating that Espalda was unlikely to see reason in the same way Nanoha did. In her opinion, Espalda was less a monster and more a mercenary. "Money can do things to people," she argued. "And it may not even be money. There are other goods to be had, Lost Logias, priceless antiques…people. Perhaps Espalda commits these crimes for payment." It was a kind gesture, trying to reason away her crimes, but ultimately it was in vain.

To Fate, who knew Espalda intimately, monster was the most apt description.

From the corner of her eye, she saw her Witness. Perhaps she was insane. She _was_ Precia's daughter, in spite of the woman's denial and her own dubious beginning. No, it was best not to consider it. She pushed her feelings aside, deftly pretending that, like her Witness, they did not exist, that she did not care. She could not afford to care; there were too many strikes against her already, and caring might break her.

She was the daughter of an intergalactic and multidimensional terrorist.

She was a reformed criminal.

She was the Bureau's mad dog, waiting patiently for the command to bite, to kill.

She was the Deuce.

A/N: As with my other story _Spiral_, I have no intention of continuing this but reserve the right to come back to it. If you would like to write something set in what I have come to call the Deuceverse, feel free. You have my blessing.

Please note that I really don't know much about assassination, so I apologize for anything that's over the top.

Please review!

Au revoir,

Hatter


End file.
